Of Clothing and Naps
by Morning's First Light
Summary: Munich is trying to sleep, and Sicily is trying to get dressed. What happens when Sicily can't find anything to wear and Munich gets the brunt of his frustration? Very brief, very minor innuendo. OC's. Oneshot.


It was roughly two in the afternoon on a lazy Sunday in early spring. Munich was lying across the bed he shared with his boyfriend, Sicily, in the bedroom of the apartment they had recently bought together. The sun was shining through the window, casting its long, warm rays across the room. Sicily was rooting around in their closet (though it was more the Italian's since Munich didn't have any clothes in it), looking for something to wear while Munich began dozing off. He was right on the edge of consciousness, the warmth of the sun having relaxed him, when a hanger flew through the air of the room, nearly hitting the poor German city in the head. His eyes flew open, focusing immediately on the doorway to the large walk-in closet that Sicily had been lost in the midst of.

"Everything alright?" he asked wearily, hoping to God he wouldn't get a reply so he could return to sleeping.

"Ugh! This is so irritating!" Apparently, God was not on Munich's side that lazy Sunday in early spring. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, the blond waited for his boyfriend to come back out of the closet. When the eccentric brunette didn't appear, Munich sighed.

"What's wrong? Come out and tell me about it," the German said, hoping his island of a boyfriend would listen.

But Sicily never cooperated, did he? "I'm not coming out of the closet until I find something to wear!" the Italian shouted, his voice a slightly higher pitch than normal from his frustration. No, he definitely didn't like to cooperate.

Munich couldn't help but tease him a bit, hoping that would lure the irritated man back out into the room proper. "You know," he spoke with a smirk evident in his tone, "it doesn't matter if you come out or not, I already know you're gay."

Sicily appeared then, his red face resembling his brother, Romano's, when he was angry. Munich idly thought about the way he'd heard Spain compare Romano to a tomato when he looked like that, thinking the resemblance between Sicily and a tomato was uncanny. "You think you're being funny, don't you?" Sicily all but shouted at him.

Munich sighed again, used to the brunette's emotional tendencies, "Please tell me what's wrong."

"I don't have anything to wear."

Munich rolled his eyes, "You have a whole closet of clothes; how can you have nothing to wear?"

"I've worn everything in there in the past year," Sicily whined, as though the very thought of wearing the same thing twice in the same year would appall anyone as much as it appalled him.

Munich yawned again, settling into the comfort of the top of the blankets. His eyes slid shut as he spoke, "You could just wear something of mine."

Sicily gasped, "Ew, no! I don't want to wear Nazi clothes!" he exclaimed. Munich was almost positive that he had mispronounced the word "Nazi" on purpose.

"For the last time, I'm not a Nazi!"

"Yes, you are."

"Nazism is completely illegal in Germany! If I show even a hint of Nazi-like views, I could be arrested. Killed even."

"You're still a Nazi to me."

"Then you're still a Fascist."

"No, I'm a Catholic. And you should be, too."

Munich rolled his eyes, he didn't want to get into another one of these arguments. Instead, he took the safe route, "You're a bad Catholic. Vanity is one of the seven deadly sins, and you're the vainest person I know."

"That still doesn't give me something I can wear," Sicily huffed.

Munich's eyes fluttered shut again, "You could just not wear anything at all." There was a moment of silence after that, and the German began to drift toward sleep again until the silence was broken with a very simple, very provocative sentence.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" It held no malice in the tone, just the evenness usually associated with the tone used by someone discussing the weather.

"What are you suggesting here?" Munich asked his eyes still closed.

There was another moment of silence and the blond began to once more drift toward sleep. The next time Sicily spoke, his mouth was right beside his boyfriend's ear, his warm breath gently caressing the German's skin. "What do you think?"

"_Mein Gott_."

"_Si."_

And with that, Sicily slipped under the blankets on his side of the bed, turning his back on Munich. The German sighed, his right eye beginning to twitch, a tic he had picked up from Germany. "What are you doing?" he asked, his accent becoming even thicker than usual due to his frustration.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm taking a nap," the Italian replied cockily.

Munich rolled his eyes, his shoulders slumping. "Fine, then I am too," he said, turning his back on Sicily.

After less than five minutes, they were in each other's arms, sleeping peacefully.

**A/N: This was so much fun to write. Oh, Munich is my OC, and Sicily is my girlfriend's. This scene is just a random one that came about during a roleplay of ours. I couldn't help but write it out. Hopefully, you've enjoyed it.**


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